You Do Not See The River Of

Set Out From Any Point. They Are All Alike. They All Lead To A Point Of Departure.

Those Who Gave Away Their Wings Are Sad Not To See Them Fly.

When The Superficial Wearies Me, It Wearies Me So Much That I Need An Abyss In Order To Rest.

No One Understands That You Have Given Everything. You Must Give More.

The Fear Of Separation Is All That Unites.